


thank you for the music (for giving it to me)

by fm1978



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, features cameos from the rest of the crew but special shout out to bi!julian, worf and dax in the holosuite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23458429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fm1978/pseuds/fm1978
Summary: Worf and Jadzia, on three different nights out.
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Worf
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	thank you for the music (for giving it to me)

“Have a good time, lovebirds?” Quark called.

Worf tensed beside her, but Jadzia kept her arm wrapped around his waist. She had had a wonderful evening, and she wasn’t going to let Quark’s teasing taint it now.

“Goodnight, Quark,” she sing-songed, allowing Worf to lead her out of the bar. Normally she’d make him stay for a drink or two, but she’d made brunch plans with Nerys for early the next morning, and she and Worf had already put away a little less than a full bottle of springwine during the show. He was carrying the bottle in one arm and holding her with his other. “I did have a good time, though.”

The Promenade was empty—they were in the middle of a shift, and in Bajoran local time it was several hours after midnight—as they made their way back to the habitat ring. They passed a turbolift and went for the stairs instead, and Jadzia felt a curl of joy to know that he didn’t want the night to end either. Worf made a pleased noise low in his throat. “Have you ever heard  _ Shevok’tah gish _ performed live before?”

“No, that was actually a rare first time for me,” Jadzia teased. “Although I think I recognize the principal, from Curzon’s days.”

“You have a good memory,” Worf said. “Kagash, of house Konjah, was very popular in the First City scene while he lived there.”

“I can hear and see why. She was beautiful.” Jadzia spun out of his reach and turned so she could face him. “You clean up pretty nice too, though.”

She’d finally gotten him into civvies that weren’t Klingon formal wear or exercise gear, so tonight he wore a dark green wool sweater and, an item she was shocked to discover he owned, a pair of dark blue straight leg jeans.

As she spun back around to his other side, Worf glanced at her from the corner of his eye, giving her a small but warm smile. “You look very nice as well.”

“Thank you,” Jadzia said, taking hold of and giving his hand a squeeze. She was in a dark blue dress and a black faux fur stole. “I thought the fur was a nice touch.”

Worf just hummed his agreement, and Jadzia allowed them to fall into an easy silence. They rounded the curve and soon they came upon her door.

“Well, here’s me.” Jadzia turned to face him again, wrapping her stole further around her. “We should do this again. But I’ve got two suggestions. One, I get to pick the next show we go see. And anything goes.”

“I am distrustful of the ‘anything goes’, but perhaps it will be a good chance to learn something new. Will I have to dress up again?”

“That  _ is  _ part of the fun.”

Worf paused, thinking, then shrugged. “Very well. What is your other condition?”

“Stay the night with me?”

Worf’s eyes darkened. “Jadzia, we have work tomorrow.”

“I can be quick. Can you?” She trailed a hand up his bicep, across the broad plane of his shoulder, and settled it on the back of his neck, close enough to where she could feel his pulse.

Worf didn’t answer, just moved his hand to key the door open and allow her to tug him inside.

***

The bass was pounding loudly enough that Worf could feel it in his stomach. It was not a pleasant sensation. He tried to distract himself by focusing on Jadzia, who was dancing in front of him without a care in the world, but if another holographic Trill bumped into him there was going to be swift retribution.

The DJ shouted something that was to his ears, indistinguishable, but the crowd seemed to enjoy it, and they all started moving again. Worf was more grateful for his superior height now than he’d been in a long time, for it made it easier to keep an eye on Jadzia and her dark ponytail and bright pink top. Her choice of musical experience was the Trill equivalent (Jadzia had told him the Trill word for it, but between the three shots they’d had at Quark’s beforehand and now he’d forgotten) of what the humans called a rave. They were in a large dance club in Mak’ala, and the walls and floors were bare steel and concrete—the decor in the space came from the flashing lights and glitter that was spilled on the floor off everyone’s clothing whenever they started dancing too hard. Worf wished he’d taken Quark up on his offer of an extra drink: to just stand here, allowing the crowd to move and swell around him while wearing this absurd purple neon outfit was something akin to torture.

The crowd started moving again in the other direction, still cheering and chanting in unison, and Worf pulled Jadzia to him by her elbow. She took one look at his face and said, “Computer, freeze program.”

There was a chirp and the computer complied, making the holographic figures around them freeze. “Jadzia,” Worf started.

“Oh, you hate it,” Jadzia said, frowning. “Computer—“

“You do not have to end the program,” Worf said. “I only needed a break to hear myself think.”

“But do you like it?” She asked. When he didn’t answer, she gave him that sly look. “I thought so. Computer, end program.”

The holograms around them disappeared, and a moment later the fake club also vanished.

Worf fumbled for words for a minute as they picked up their empty drinks and exited the holosuite, before he eventually settled on, “Thank you. I am sorry to cut short our night out.”

Jadzia laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I just thought the dancing and shouting would be fun.”

“Perhaps if I tried to get in the spirit of things more,” Worf suggested, but she waved him off shaking her head.

They went up the stairs to grab a table on the upper floor, and when they settled across from each other she took one of his hands, absently tracing her thumb across the back of his knuckles. “No, the vibe is not for everybody. It wasn’t even really my thing before I was joined, but Emony was into the scene. And apparently Julian was a rave boy before he went to medical school.”

“I see,” Worf said. “You like dancing, though. I don’t wish to keep you from it.”

She tilted her head back and sighed, but when she turned her gaze back to him her eyes were bright. “Well, that party was a bust, but we will find something we both really like, where I can dance, and you can—“

“Probably not dance.”

“I like the odds of that probably. And I’m not giving up on the music yet.”

***

She and Nerys had just gotten off alpha and had just turned down the hallway towards crew quarters when Worf appeared, headed in their direction. He looked back and forth between them. “Do you two have plans for later?”

“Hello to you too,” Jadzia said. “And no, we were just walking.”

“Good. I have scheduled us time in the holosuite. And—there is a costume required.”

Jadzia smirked. “That sounds promising.”

“And on that note, I’m gonna go,” Nerys said. “See you both tomorrow.”

Kira hustled down the hallway ahead of them, and she and Worf went at a lazier pace to his quarters. When she arrived, they were as clean as ever, but on his bed sat a garment bag.

“That’s yours.” Worf gestured to it.

Jadzia walked over and unzipped it, and what she saw inside made her gasp. It was a bright red, sequined jumpsuit, with a flared leg and a halter neckline, and when she pulled it out of the bag the sequins scattered reflections of sparkles on the walls and ceiling. “Worf, I love it! What’s it for?”

“Another musical exploration,” Worf said.

Jadzia knew she was grinning like a fool, but she couldn’t stop as she gathered the material and held it close to her chest. “I can’t wait! I’m gonna go try it on.”

She ducked into the bathroom, efficiently stripping from her uniform and pulling the fun jumpsuit on instead. She let her hair down, too, flipping her head over and shaking it out a few times, then stepped out ready to show off to Worf. When she emerged though, he had changed and let his hair down as well: he was still in black pants, but they were flares too, and his shirt was a dark red satin and unbuttoned almost to his stomach. Instead of commenting on the outfit, he just said, “There are shoes, too.”

They were in a box on the bed, a pair of silver platform sandals, and Jadzia gleefully put those on as well. When she stood up, she was only about an inch shorter than him. “Okay, I guess I’m ready.”

“Good,” Worf said, and linked their arms as they walked to the holosuite.

“Are you going to tell me what this experiment is?” She asked. 

“It is a band my parents enjoy,” Worf said. He did not elaborate further, but soon they were in Quark’s, where they were greeted with a low whistle from the Chief and applause from Julian.

“Where are you headed tonight, old man?” Benjamin asked when they stepped up to the bar to grab their pre-game drinks.

“No idea,” Jadzia answered, taking the offered glass. It was a cranberry vodka, and she was surprised to see Worf drinking one of the same—he usually didn’t go for human alcohol, or much at all, really. “Worf is being frustratingly vague on the details.”

“Well, you both look great,” Julian said, raising his glass to them.

They finished their drinks and took another bottle and a couple of glasses from Quark as he told Worf, “Program’s all booted up for you. It’s yours till midnight.”

“Thanks, Quark,” Jadzia said, taking the glasses and standing to follow Worf. He stopped at the door, waiting for her to fall into place beside him.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes! The suspense is killing me,” Jadzia said, laughing, and Worf keyed the door open and allowed her to step in first. “Oh, I love this already. Are you gonna tell me where we are now?”

They were right behind the soundboard of a packed stadium, and Worf and her pushed through the tightly packed crowd towards the front of the stage. The lights were dimmed, making everything onstage appear to be shapes of black and blue, and it sounded like someone was playing warmup chords on a synthesizer. Worf leaned down and whispered to her, “Wembley Arena, 1979. It is about to start.”

A moment later the drums kicked in, the lights kicked on, and there was a flash of movement on stage—it kind of looked like someone was wearing a cape? Then there was a familiar guitar riff, and Jadzia gasped and whacked Worf on the arm to get his attention. “Wait, is this ABBA?”

“You know ABBA?”

Jadzia squealed. “Worf! I love ABBA!”

He beamed, teeth and all. “Good.”

“Voulez-vous” was playing but Jadzia couldn’t look at the stage, distracted by Worf and his I’m-pleased-with-myself-and-I-deserve-to-be expression. “Is this music I can turn your ‘probably won’t dance’ into an ‘I will dance’?”

He raised his shoulders in a shrug, but when she looked down he was already tapping his foot to the beat. “Perhaps.”

“Good,” Jadzia said. “I’ll let you pick the music from now on, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this all in one go because I had the thought "if Worf hasn't got down to Rasputin once in his life I stg" and that transferred into "Worf likes DISCO" so here we are.


End file.
